The Confessional
by princessozmaofoz
Summary: Although James Hathaway once contemplated pledging his life to God, his faith didn't keep him from sin. No, the seminary student-turned police officer has broken all of the ten commandments at some point in his life. JH/JI, JH/SM, JH/FM, JH/LH. Warning for: non-graphic sexual encounter, Dark! Hathaway, slight AU-ness, and a whole lot of angst. COMPLETE.
1. False Gods

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything _Lewis_-related. If I did, I would be a very rich and very happy woman and would not spend my time attempting to write fanfiction.**

**Acknowledgements: This fic is dedicated to the very "dishy" and talented Mr. Laurence Fox. Fox's brilliant portrayal of the conflicted, brooding, ambiguous, and VERY sexy DS James Hathaway was the primary inspiration of this little story.**

* * *

Prologue

Detective Sergeant James Hathaway of the Oxfordshire police quietly slid into a pew toward the back of the church. Although small and cosy-looking, the chapel seemed alien to him. With the exception of weddings, funerals, concerts, and murder inquiries, Hathaway had not set foot in a church for years. However, he had recently been struck with an overpowering desire to go to confession. He knew the source; his sister had just asked him to serve as godfather to her new-born son, and James had known that—in his current state of sin—he was in no position to help foster little "Jimmy's"' faith. Once he'd decided to go to confession, he'd carefully thought about the church he'd attend, choosing this particular place, as it was foreign to him. No one—priest or parishioner—would recognize him here, which was for the best as the sins he had to confess were both many and grievous. James noticed a man walking into the confessional. The sergeant sighed with relief; he knew that he was not ready to own up to his sins just yet. He needed the time to think of what to say and how to say it.

He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a single piece that he had picked up as he walked in. The first line read "Tips for Examination of Conscience" in big red letters. The message continued on the next line in a smaller font. "When examining one's conscience, one should review the commandments and carefully reflect on all of their implications. James flipped the card over and saw that the Ten Commandments were listed in order. He set the card down. He didn't need to read the commandments to recall them. They were permanently implanted in his brain from his days at the seminary. James considered the first commandment.

"_I am the Lord, Your God. Thou shall have no other gods besides me."_

That was the commandment that Hathaway broke the most frequently. So often, James found himself valuing secular possessions over spiritual matters: money, power, his friends, his career, women (and the occasional man) …and—worst of all—himself. He needed to stop caring so much about what was in his own best interests and start focusing on God's will. He hoped that he was capable of it; that was—after all—why he was here. He was tired of living in the shadow of his sins and wanted to return to the light. He wanted to be a good Christian from now on—for his own sake, as well as that of his young nephew.

James briefly reflected on his first commandment infractions, and then moved on to the second commandment.

'_Thou shall not take the name of the Lord, Your God in vain.'_

James thought about that for a moment. If breaking the first commandment was his most frequent sin, this was a close second. Hathaway knew that swearing was one of his greatest vices—though he was hardly only one guilty of that. Yet, there _had_ been a time when he'd gone a step further than merely taking God's name in vain—he'd cursed it.


	2. Name in Vain

**Note: This chapter contains mild spoilers from "The Dead of Winter"**

Name in Vain

James Hathaway watched the coin sink to the bottom of the fountain. It eventually landed right where he wanted it—nestled between the coins already tossed by his two dearest friends.

"What did you wish for, James?" Scarlet asked, walking over to the lanky, blond twelve-year-old and placing a dainty hand on his arm.

"Don't be daft," Paul said as he lay on his back, staring at the white, fluffy clouds in the bright blue sky. "If you tell a wish, it won't come true. _Everyone_ knows that."

James shook off Scarlet's hand and went to sit beside Paul. "My wish won't come true anyway," he muttered to himself.

And he had known that it wouldn't come true. James wondered vaguely why he'd even bothered wishing it in the first place. His family was leaving the estate today, and there was absolutely nothing James Hathaway could do about it.

It wasn't that he hadn't tried to stop this; he'd already done just about everything that he could think of: cry, beg, and compile a persuasive list of reasons to stay. Mostly though, he'd just prayed—prayed that everything would somehow work out. The praying had been the result of his grandmother's influence.

A fragile and deeply pious woman, Grandmother Hathaway had liked her young grandson to come and visit with her every Sunday. As his grandmother worked on her knitting, James would read aloud from the enormous, beautifully-bound Bible. When he finished a story, his grandmother would wipe the tears from her tired eyes with a wizened hand and thank James for reading to her. Then he would walk over to her ancient rocking chair and let her give him a tender (albeit embarrassing) kiss on the forehead. Then, she'd squeeze his hand and whisper to him.

"Oh, James. You make me so proud. I thank the Lord for you—and your sister—every morning. Please promise me that you'll always stay true in your faith." Then he would promise, just as he always did.

"Remember, James, the most important thing: nothing is impossible with God."

Because James had believed her, he had prayed everyday after receiving the news of his family's impending departure from the manor, from his grandmother, and from his friends. He had petitioned fervently and hopelessly. He had also attempted to bargain with his Creator, making promises that he was unsure he could keep.

It had all been a waste of time. He was leaving today, quite probably forever.

The worst of it was that—deep down— he knew that his departure was the best. As of late, his relationship with the lord's daughter had changed drastically. James had always thought that Scarlet was pretty, but the past summer, she had really blossomed into a beauty and acquired a barrage of male admirers. James was among them, daydreaming futilely about being Scarlet's boyfriend: kissing her, holding her hand, giving her all the pretty flowers and jewellery that she deserved (though James knew he would never be able to afford to spoil her this way). James had also recently gotten the impression that Scarlet returned his affections. They'd never spoken of it, but there still seemed to be moments where his foolish, desperate love seemed almost possible.

James glanced over at Scarlet who was still standing beside the fountain. The light November breeze ruffled her long brown hair as she reached down thoughtfully to touch the water. For a moment, James wondered if he should tell her how he felt before he left. He quickly abandoned this idea. Even if Scarlet felt the same way, they could never actually "be" anything; she was a lady, and he was just the son of her father's servant. Besides, he couldn't exactly spill his heart out with Paul there. That would be awkward to say the least.

"James?" a new voice said suddenly.

James turned to see that his sister had joined them.

"It's time to leave."

"Alright, then."

Paul and James rose to their feet, and Scarlet walked over to them. James felt a churning in his stomach at the thought of offering his final farewell to his dearest companions. They'd called themselves "The Three Musketeers" once, and had sworn that death alone would part them.

James turned to Paul first—sensible Paul, dependable Paul, Paul who had been almost like a brother to him. James and Paul hugged each other tightly, and surprisingly, this gesture caused no lasting damage to either of their male prides.

"Goodbye, mate. Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Then, James turned to Scarlet, whose eyes were brimming over with tears. He put his arms around her too, but this embrace was different. He held Scarlet closer than he had held Paul, and he stroked her hair, marvelling at its fragrance and softness. Finally, they broke apart.

"I'll never forget you, James."

"Nor I you, Scarlet."

Then, James followed his sister to the car. He slouched in his seat, and he said one final prayer that everything would be alright. When he didn't receive the answer he wanted, he grew angry—not with himself for failing to find a way to remain with his friends nor with his family for creating this dilemma in the first place. No, James Hathaway was angry with his God.

* * *

_ Sergeant James Hathaway sighed at the memory. He really had been foolish, and he now saw that everything really had worked out for the best. If he had stayed, he might have ended up like Scarlet—weak and easily manipulated—or even worse, like Paul._

_ He thought again of his grandmother. He had neglected to take her wise advice to heart. He remembered his Sunday visits to her. Then, he had actually managed to obey the next commandment._

'_Keep Holy the Sabbath.'_

_ Grandmother Hathaway was probably rolling in her grave right now._


	3. Breaking the Sabbath

Breaking the Sabbath

James Hathaway awoke to bright sunlight streaming through his window.

_'How long have I been out?'_ he wondered to himself as he shielded his eyes from the blinding light. Then he carefully rose to his feet and walked over to the window.

As James passed his roommate's bed, he noticed that it was empty. Well, that was unsurprising. Andy hadn't attended the party last night; he had claimed that he needed to spend the time in the library, preparing for his finals. If it was really as late in the day as Hathaway suspected it was, James's roommate was probably meeting with his study group right now.

Once again, Andy had proven to be the sensible one. Ordinarily, James Hathaway did not consider himself a heavy drinker, but last night, he had really lost control of himself in an attempt to cope with his grief.

Grandmother Hathaway had been the only one who had understood James, the only one who had bothered to listen to him—quite probably the only person who had cared about James at all.

His parents certainly hadn't cared; they were always so wrapped up in their own lives to think of paying attention to their son. And while James's sister had tried to treat him kindly, she was far too young to comprehend what was going on with him.

In spite of their sixty-year age difference, Hathaway had found a kindred spirit in his grandmother. Although they seldom saw each other in person, they had maintained a correspondence through letters and phone calls. She was always able to make him laugh and to comfort him when he cried. It was her guidance that had led him to become what he was now: a Theology student at Cambridge.

And now, Grandmother Hathaway was gone to a better place, and James was left wholly without friendship or direction.

So, Hathaway had looked for solace in other places, knowing that he wouldn't find it. For a time, he had completely engrossed himself in his studies. When that had failed, James Hathaway had tried to drown his sorrows in a bottle—just as he had done last night.

He had felt comforted for a time, but then the good feelings had abandoned him, leaving Hathaway only nausea and a throbbing headache as reminders of his brief respite from misery.

Hathaway carefully pulled down the blinds to block out the sun's rays. Then, he walked back to his bed. He suddenly remembered that today was Sunday. He looked down at his wrist to check the time; due to last night's drunken haze, Hathaway had forgotten to take off his watch before collapsing on his bed.

The watch showed the time as 10:45 a.m. The last mass of the day was at 12:00. He could still make it to church—_should _still make it to church.

Who was he kidding? Hathaway felt ghastly; he'd likely end up passing out during the service—or worse upchucking communion.

James knew that going to church was what his grandmother would have wanted, but Hathaway doubted that he could do it—not even for her. He was still too exhausted, still too sick, still too…_angry._

That was the truth of the matter, regardless of how much James tried to deny it. The last thing he felt like doing right now was praising God, who had taken away Hathaway's dearest friend in the world.

So, James Hathaway remained in his dorm room and nursed his hangover.

* * *

_ DS Hathaway thought again of his grandmother and how disappointed she would be if she could see the man that he had become. This small infraction was only the beginning of the end for Hathaway. He had already begun to trudge the path of sin._

_James thought about the fourth commandment—a commandment that he knew he had broken many a time._

"_Honour thy father and mother."_


	4. Dishonouring Parents

Dishonouring Parents

"What do you mean you want to be a policeman?" Lionel Hathaway roared as he stared at his only son from the couch.

"I mean what I _say_," James said decisively, leaning back in his armchair and crossing his arms across his chest.

"You _can't _be serious!"

"I've never been more serious in my entire life. This is what I'm meant to do; I'm sure of it."

"Just like you were 'sure' you wanted to be a priest?' his father said with a mocking smile.

"This is different."

" James?" his mother asked tentatively. "Would you mind telling us _why_ you want to do this?"

Hathaway nervously struggled to put his thoughts into words. "It's just… I think I'd be really good at it, and I'd like to do something decent with my life."

"But there's plenty of good you can do elsewhere," his father reminded him. "Why with your brains, you could easily become a lawyer…maybe even a doctor."

"I don't want to be a lawyer or a doctor. Besides, I doubt I could ever afford law or medical school."

"You'd probably earn another scholarship—like the one that sent you to Cambridge."

Hathaway shrugged. "Even with a scholarship, it would still be ridiculously expensive."

"We'd help out, James," his mother chimed in. "You needn't bear the financial burden alone."

"You seem to be missing out on the fact that I don't want to be a lawyer or a doctor; I want to be a _policeman_!"

"No, you don't, James," Lionel Hathaway said, giving his son an intimidating stare. "You just _think_ that you do. You don't fully understand what being a policeman would entail. It would mean stress the likes of which you can't even begin to imagine."

"The same stress that I would feel as a doctor or lawyer," Hathaway pointed out.

"It would also mean putting your life on the line every day," his father continued.

"I know; I don't care."

And he _didn't _care. It was just what he wanted. James had never valued his life the way that most other people had; his own experiences on this earth had been nothing short of miserable. He was perfectly willing to jeopardize his very existence in this manner, prepared to give up his life for something far more worthy than himself.

"Well, I _do _care," Lionel Hathaway replied frostily. "You'd be degrading yourself, James. You'd work long hours for insufficient pay, and you'd rub elbows with the wrong sort of people. Common cutthroats, whores, and thieves."

Hathaway was unsurprised that his father had brought up this point. Reputation was probably the only thing that Lionel Hathaway truly cared about.

James gritted his teeth angrily and tried to maintain calm. "I've made my decision, Father. Nothing that you say will sway me one way or the other."

"We won't let you do it, James."

"What did you say?" Hathaway rose to his feet angrily.

"You heard me the first time. Your mother and I disapproved enough when you chose to enter the seminary, but we consented anyway; it was what your grandmother would have wanted. But _this_ is something completely different. We can't allow you to sacrifice your potential."

Hathaway gave a harsh laugh. "My potential? You don't give a _damn_ about my potential! The only thing that you care about is preserving the family name—a name that I might add is not nearly as ancient and spotless as you've led the neighbours to believe!"

"_Don't_ you take that tone of voice with me, young man!" Lionel Hathaway got up from his chair and walked over to his son.

" I'll do what I please," Hathaway said coldly as he looked down his nose at his much-shorter father.

"James, please calm down," his mother implored, stepping between the two men.

He ignored her request, continuing to stare down his father. "I intend to enter the police academy, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind."

"What you 'intend' to do is neither here nor there. What really matters is our consent. And your mother and I simply won't allow you to do this, James."

"Who said anything about 'allowing' me? I'm doing this with or without your approval."

"James…" his father said, in the same threatening tone that used to precede a switching.

"I'm of age now. You don't have authority to order me about anymore. I'll do whatever the hell I want! I'll shout and talk back and—regardless of what you may think to the contrary—I _will_ become a policeman! Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go now. It's clear we have nothing more to say to each other."

Hathaway grabbed his coat from the armchair where he'd left it and began walking away from his parents.

"If you take one more step toward that door, James Edmund Hathaway, I swear that I'll disinherit you!"

Hathaway turned and looked at his parents as he contemplated this for a minute. Then—before leaving his home once and for all—James raised a hand and gave Lionel Hathaway "the bird."

* * *

_James's father had been right about one thing. Ever since he became a policeman, Hathaway had been overworked, underpaid, and stressed to the point of insanity. But he continued to do his job, determined to do something noble to atone for the most terrible sin that he'd ever committed._

'_Thou shall not kill.'_

* * *

**Just thought I'd warn you, the next two chapters ("Killing" and "Adultery") will be pretty dark so you may want to skip them. However, the mood will lighten a bit in chapter 7.**


	5. Killing

Note: This chapter contains spoilers for " Life Born of Fire."

Killing

Detective Sergeant James Hathaway of the Oxfordshire police fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat as his partner pulled the car over to the road and then parked it.

Lewis prepared to exit the vehicle and then noticed that his sergeant hadn't even unfastened his seatbelt yet.

"Are you okay?"

"Er…yeah." The lie rolled smoothly off of Hathaway's tongue. "It's… just… Will's mum was such a lovely lady."

The two walked over to Sadie McEwan's house and knocked on the door. Eventually, Will's mother came to the door and ushered them inside once they'd showed her their police badges.

James let Lewis introduce himself first. The sergeant simply couldn't bear to look Sadie McEwan in the eye. After all, he _had _killed her son.

True, Hathaway hadn't physically held the gun to Will's head and pulled the trigger, but he had guided Will McEwan to the latter's suicide.

Years ago when Hathaway had been training for the priesthood, Will had come to his friend for advice. He'd asked James if it was possible to be both a good Christian and a homosexual.

Hathaway had given the answer indoctrinated in him by his teachers. Never mind that he himself had experienced Will's uncertainty. Never mind that Hathaway's own mind delved in sexual fantasies—featuring men and women—far too frequently for someone who was supposed to remain eternally celibate.

Knowing that he was a hypocrite, Hathaway had told Will what he had been led to believe. He has also pressured his friend to return to the Garden, which Will had done. And Hathaway had witnessed first-hand the destructive influence the organization had had on Will.

And yet, rather than admitting that he'd been wrong and rather than attempting to comfort Will through his devastation, Hathaway had fled from the mess he'd created, forever abandoning both his former friend and his planned vocation.

And now Will was dead, because of him. Because of both what Hathaway had done and what he had not done. Because of his blind faith and his total lack of courage.

Sadie McEwan was now looking at Hathaway scrutinizingly, as though she was attempting to figure out why he looked so familiar.

He explained that he'd once been a friend of Will's and had then flinched inside at his poor word choice. "Friends" didn't send one another to their deaths.

Mrs McEwan then recognized him as James Hathaway, the somewhat shy but unfailingly kind and polite boy who had once spent a summer with them.

"Unfailingly kind and polite?" a voice in Hathaway's head asked. "If only you knew, Mrs McEwan. If only knew…"

* * *

_ James offered up a silent prayer for Will McEwan's soul and then turned his thoughts to the next commandment, shuddering as he remembered what it was._

_ 'Thou shall not commit adultery.'_

* * *

** So I'm including a little caveat for the next chapter. Adultery is defined literally as "sexual intercourse between a married person and another not the spouse," so there's not a lot of wiggle room as to interpretation. You've probably noticed by now that there are not a lot of married people on _Lewis,_ and as I don't feel like creating an original character, it should be fairly obvious with whom Hathaway will be sleeping. I'm not planning to make the encounter very graphic, but if the idea of these two characters giving each other a bit of physical comfort offends you, you should think about skipping the next chapter.**


	6. Adultery

**Note: I'm setting this somewhere between the end of Series 2 and the beginning of Series 3.**

Adultery

A loud clap of thunder suddenly aroused Detective Sergeant James Hathaway from his slumber. He glanced over at the still-sleeping woman lying next to him and marvelled at how pleasant it felt to have her smooth, fragrant skin pressed up against his own bare body. Hathaway pulled her closer to him, as though to protect her from anyone who might disturb them. Although Hathaway was quite sure that the house was completely empty, an inexplicable fear kept rising in him that someone would come out of nowhere and find him in bed with the most inappropriate person imaginable—that he and his companion would be caught _in flagrante delicto_ as Hathaway's old Latin professor would have put it.

James took a deep breath to calm his anxieties and continued to study his bedmate furtively. He found a curious joy in watching her sleep. She breathed slowly and easily, her chest rising and falling in a natural rhythm. Her unbound hair was spread out haphazardly all over her pillow, adding to the ambiance of nonchalance so out-of-character for the woman Hathaway knew well. For once, Jean Innocent seemed completely and utterly at peace. It was a stark contrast to the way she was at work—brisk, tense, and impatient.

James watched her for a few moments and then looked away. He was trying very hard not to think of the problem that still awaited the pair of them: the coming morning.

Hathaway wondered vaguely how they'd react to each other once they had removed themselves from the safety and privacy of his bed. The sergeant couldn't begin to fathom how on earth he'd be able to face the chief superintendent tomorrow and call her "ma'am," as though nothing had happened between them.

And how would Innocent respond to _him_? Would she try to avoid him, convinced that something equally drastic would happen if they were left in the same room again?

Would she blush with shame and embarrassment whenever their eyes met? That seemed very unlike her for some reason.

And yet, he'd once thought her incapable of crying, as well. Tonight, Hathaway himself had wiped away her tears.

Hathaway was completely sure of one thing, however. Eventually, this night would come up again in conversation, and when it did, Innocent would attempt to justify her actions. She'd probably claim that the alcohol had left her dazed, confused, and distracted. It was a plausible explanation, but it wasn't the truth; they both knew that.

Despite her façade of confidence and independence, Jean Innocent was lonely—lonely _and_ more-than-a-little vulnerable. Not that Hathaway could really blame her for this. He felt the same way, and he had nothing like her excuse.

As for Hathaway, it would be very easy to blame his behaviour tonight on his own feelings of desolation, but loneliness wasn't the only thing that had prompted him to action. The sergeant had also been guided by an undercurrent of long-repressed lust.

That night, the chief superintendent had stopped by Hathaway's flat with some important papers that she'd forgotten to give him earlier in the day. As she'd arrived at the inception of a massive thunderstorm, James had invited her inside to dry off for a minute or two. She'd been eager to get out of the rain for even a moment so she'd acquiesced, hanging up her coat and joining him on the sofa for a quick drink. The storm had then turned so violent that James had insisted that it was far too dangerous for Jean to venture out again.

Although it was quite late, neither Hathaway nor Innocent had been tired so they'd each poured themselves another drink and sat up talking for the next few hours. The conversation had eventually drifted from light gossip about their colleagues to far more serious matters. James had opened up about his recent struggles with depression, and Jean had confessed her suspicions that Mr Innocent was having an affair with his secretary.

James still wasn't sure what had initially driven him to kiss Jean Innocent. But regardless of what had incited his actions, Hathaway _had_ kissed her. He'd been shocked that she hadn't pulled away, hadn't slapped him and called him an insolent upstart, hadn't accused him of using her to further his career. As the kiss deepened, he had lightly pushed her from her seated position on the couch onto her back and had pulled himself down on top of her. It was then that he'd realized that snogging alone wouldn't satisfy him. The sergeant had broken off the kiss and had sat up again, aware that he needed to stop himself before he attempted something he'd really regret. After all, Innocent would never let him go any farther tonight than he'd already gone.

Or _would _she? She certainly hadn't fought him. In fact, Jean's lips had responded to his touch; it was quite possible that she wanted James just as much as he wanted her.

But what either of them wanted didn't matter —did it? It was suicide from a professional standpoint. If they acted upon this tension anymore, they would both wind up losing their jobs. Their careers would be completely obliterated in a tempest of scandal—as violent as the storm still raging outside—once they were caught.

_If_ they were caught—for who would have caught them? According to Jean, Mr Innocent was in Edinburgh for the week on a business trip. Furthermore, Hathaway knew that he and Innocent were completely alone in the house. Besides, the only person who ever popped in unexpectedly was Lewis, and he was also away, taking advantage of a much-needed leave to visit his daughter.

However, getting caught had never been the greatest concern. What James had been seriously contemplating was morally wrong. Never mind that Mr Innocent didn't deserve fidelity from his wife, there was really no such thing as "justifiable" adultery. If he did this, he was no better than Jean's unfaithful husband. As James had mentally envisioned himself committing this very grievous of sins, the sergeant had been painfully aware that his insides should have been writhing with revulsion. The thought of taking from Jean what belonged to her husband had—in fact—made Hathaway shudder, but it hadn't been with disgust.

Lust and propriety had continued to war fiercely in his head, and eventually, lust had won out, just as Hathaway had suspected that it ultimately would. James had then decided to take his chance. He'd asked Jean to let him comfort her tonight, to let him block out all of the painful memories of her husband, and to let him remind her that she was still desirable. After barely a moment of consideration, Jean had replied that she had been dreading the thought of sleeping alone on such a wretched night anyway. Hathaway had taken that as his cue to claim her with his lips before leading her into his bedroom.

The subsequent intimacy had far surpassed any of Hathaway's erotic daydreams but he knew that this couldn't happen again. There were boundaries that needed to be kept in the future—rules that needed to be followed.

A bright flash of lighting drew Hathaway back to the present. He stole another glance at Jean to see if the storm had disturbed her. It hadn't. He continued to watch her, envying her serenity. He knew that—when he finally returned to sleep—his own rest would not be so peaceful.

* * *

_DS James_ _Hathaway sighed. _

_ What on earth had he been thinking that night?_

_ But that was just it—wasn't it? He __**hadn't **__been thinking._ _Hathaway had been far too concerned with his own physical and mental pleasures to think of the consequences. And so, James had consummated his lust, thereby damaging not only his own soul—but Jean's as well. _

_ Mr Innocent had soon grown tired of his secretary and had come crawling back to his wife with his tail between his legs. Because Jean had still loved her wayward husband in spite of his transgressions, she had welcomed him back with open arms. And in spite of a new awkwardness between herself and James, she made it very clear that her relationship with the sergeant must remain strictly professional from then on. _

_ Hathaway had found it much more difficult to move on from what he'd done. After all, he'd used Jean's sorrow to his own advantage, subtly manipulating Innocent into giving herself to him—something she'd never have done if she hadn't been so emotionally vulnerable at the time. _

_ Even though as James's actions of that night repulsed him, they continued to arouse him. There was still a part of him that craved to repeat his sin—a part that didn't care that Jean Innocent belonged to another man._

_ The sergeant wondered vaguely why he'd never been able to let go of things that he wanted but could never have. It hadn't just been Innocent, either. There had been others that his conscience had simply refused to forget. His reluctance to forget one particular lost love had once led him to break the next commandment on his list._

_ 'Thou shall not steal.'_

* * *

**For anyone who's interested (although I think I may be the only person in the world who actually ships Hathaway/Innocent), I've also written Jean's POV for this incident in the one-shot _Mistakes._**


	7. Stealing

**Note: This is set during "The Point of Vanishing"**

Stealing

"Thanks again for helping me pack, James. I really needed the extra pair of hands," Fiona McKendrick said, glancing over at Hathaway.

" Oh, you're welcome," the detective sergeant said, forcing a smile as he packed up another box. "I only wish it wasn't necessary," he added under his breath. He mentally berated himself for his selfishness. This promotion was a marvellous opportunity for Fiona, and Hathaway knew that she must take it.

"Would you care to stay for dinner?"

"I…er…"

"Please?" Fiona asked.

Although he knew that spending more time with her would only make their parting more painful, Hathaway consented, delighted for any excuse to stay in her presence.

Fiona left the room, claiming that she would order pizza for the two of them. Hathaway, meanwhile, continued to box up Fiona's possessions. The thought occurred to him that neither he nor Fiona had thought to look under the sofa. James did so now, peering underneath the puce monstrosity of a couch that Fiona had inherited from an aunt. He saw nothing—save a small, red glove without a mate.

He grabbed it and turned it in his hand.

Unbidden, a memory rose in Hathaway's mind.

Last December, Oxford had received the largest snowfall in decades. Much to the chief constable's chagrin, even the police officers had forgotten their duties in their excitement, abandoning half-solved cases in favour of sleds and snow angels.

Hathaway had been determined not to let himself get distracted, but when Fiona had walked into his office and demanded that he help her build a snowman, he had decided that he could use a short break after all.

He had agreed to meet her outside in twenty minutes. James had worked for awhile and had then put on his coat. Fortunately, he had not run into Innocent on his way out. Hathaway knew that the chief superintendent would not have approved of this excursion.

No sooner had Hathaway exited the building then he was struck by an enormous snowball. He had glanced around for the source and saw Fiona, her red -gloved hands holding a pile of snowballs. She had grinned at him mischievously before pelting him with the rest of her pile.

He'd sworn that he'd make her pay and had chased her around, making and throwing snowballs of his own. Finally, he'd cornered her against the wall of the station, and she had surrendered.

Then, they had built their snowman. The finished product had borne more than a passing resemblance to the chief constable, and they had laughed at that.

Then, Fiona had laced the fingers of her gloved hand with James's own and had led him back inside for a cup of warm coffee.

"James, would you care for a soda?" asked a loud voice from the other room.

Hathaway was swiftly drawn out of the memory. "I'll be there in a minute, Fiona," he called.

Before he left the room, however, he pocketed the red glove.

* * *

_James Hathaway spared another thought for Fiona McKendrick. The two of them hadn't really kept in touch after she'd left for Scotland Yard; Fiona had been far too busy with her new job. _

_He wondered if she ever thought of him and of the day they'd spent playing in the snow together. _

_ Not that it really mattered one way or the other. Fiona was gone now. He'd had the opportunity to stay with her, and he hadn't taken it, choosing his career over his heart. And he'd spend the rest of his life unsure that he had made the right decision._

_He was sure that she had looked for the missing glove; it was cashmere after all. By now, however, she'd probably given up hope of ever finding it. He supposed that he should have felt guilty for taking the glove from her, but he hadn't. It was all he had to remind him of the few glorious months they'd spent seeing each other in secret._

_Hathaway then returned his thoughts to his imminent confession and moved on to the next commandment: 'Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbour.'_


	8. False Witness

**Note: I'm setting this somewhere between Series 3 and 4. I'd also like to include another warning. In my personal opinion, this chapter shows James at his absolute worst, so read at your own risk. **

False Witness

"Boy, go and make me a cup of coffee," said DI Charles Knox as he sauntered into the room.

"Excuse me?" Detective Sergeant James Hathaway looked up from his desk.

Surely, Knox hadn't been speaking to _him—had he?_

The sergeant glanced around and quickly realized that he and Knox were—in fact—the only people in the room_._ Hathaway suddenly remembered that Lewis had left the station early that afternoon for a doctor's appointment.

Knox walked over to Hathaway. "I'm tired and thirsty. Go and get me a cup of coffee right now."

James scowled at his former inspector. "Fetch your own coffee. I work for Inspector Lewis now, _sir._"

"But you are a _sergeant_—are you not?" Knox added, emphasizing the word "sergeant" with the same superior, condescending tone that a lord might use when addressing his servant.

"Yes, _Lewis's_ sergeant," Hathaway clarified.

"And I am an inspector—am I not?"

James scrunched up his face in mock thought. "I really don't know, sir. _Are _you?"

"Yes, I am," Knox said through clenched teeth.

"_Really_? Because you don't act like one."

"Nevertheless, I _am_ an inspector while _you_ are a sergeant. I outrank you, and therefore, you have to do what I say. And seeing as Inspector Lewis clearly doesn't have anything better for you to do at the moment… The coffee…"

"Fine," Hathaway said angrily, rising to his feet and walking to the door.

"Oh and one more thing… I drink my coffee black—that is _without_ any creamor sugar…something that you frequently forgot when you were _my _sergeant."

In truth, Hathaway had never actually "forgotten" Knox's coffee preferences. He'd purposely placed as much sugar and cream in Knox's cup as possible and had feigned a poor memory when Knox had questioned him. It was James's subtle way of rebelling against the man who'd taken great pleasure in relegating Hathaway to an errand boy.

"Boy, go make me some copies of this file."

"Sergeant, cancel my dentist appointment for this afternoon—will you? I'm far too busy to place the call myself."

"Boy, have you gotten the coffee stain off of my briefcase yet?"

It was always "boy" or "sergeant." In their year-and-a-half working as partners, DI Knox never called him "Hathaway" and _certainly_ never "James" as Lewis often did. Calling his sergeant by his proper name would have implied that Knox considered his sergeant a valuable asset. And the inspector certainly didn't want to give a false impression.

Knox had blatantly ignored all of Hathaway's questions or comments regarding any of their cases. Furthermore, he had never offered James any advice about their shared profession. James had initially been very confused at this, but Dr Hobson had eventually provided the sergeant with a plausible theory: that Knox was jealous of Hathaway's quick mind and was intentionally holding back the young sergeant.

Although Hathaway had despised the petty duties that Knox assigned him, the sergeant greatly preferred performing them to the alternative: listening to Knox's rants. The inspector enjoyed complaining about just about everything: the weather, the high taxes, foreigners, traffic, domestic animals, and young children. However, Knox's favourite and most-frequent target was Jean Innocent.

The inspector was in the habit of lamenting loudly the intense shame and emasculation that a woman's supervision brought to him. With the dubious voice of an uninformed critic, Knox would carefully analyse the chief superintendent's every decision. He categorized Innocent's every triumph as a fluke, the product of sheer dumb luck or the result of more-skilled male officers making up for Innocent's incompetence. Similarly, any mistake that Innocent made was taken as veritable proof that the whole of her sex was too weak for such a "masculine profession."

After he'd finished criticizing Innocent's management style, Knox would move on to his anger at the fact that the chief constable would not allow the inspector to put "the uppity bitch" in her "proper place."

Once Hathaway had made the unfortunate mistake of asking Knox exactly what the chief super's "proper place" was, and the inspector had been only too happy to explain, rattling off a long, disturbing list of Jean Innocent's potential uses. In vividly graphic detail, the inspector would further describe all the vile and degrading things that he'd gleefully do to Innocent given the opportunity. Knox's repeated objectification of his female superior officer shocked and disgusted even James, whose own thoughts about the chief superintendent were not exactly pure.

Hathaway had been tempted to report the inspector on several occasions, but upon further thought, he had realized that there was very little that Innocent could do to reprimand Knox. Technically, the inspector was only guilty of being a misogynist and a pervert, traits that—though distasteful—were not exactly criminal. The sergeant had, however, alerted the chief super's secretary, who'd agreed to ensure that Innocent was never left completely alone with Knox.

Knox's suspension for drinking had come as a welcome surprise to James, and the sergeant had been ecstatic when he'd been reassigned to Lewis. Hathaway had thrived under his new inspector's tutelage, receiving the necessary guidance and affirmation that his previous inspector had denied him.

Knox, meanwhile, had not had such an easy time after he'd returned to work. The inspector went through seven sergeants over the next two-and-a-half years. His last sergeant had left the force permanently after only two months of working under Knox. The inspector had also been suspended four additional times for drinking on the job. After Knox's most recent suspension, the chief constable gave Innocent explicit instructions to suspend Knox indefinitely if he put another toe out of line.

James had been overjoyed upon learning this and had eagerly anticipated the day when Knox would be gone once and for all. Unfortunately, that day still had not come. Aware that another mistake would cost him his career, Knox had remained on his very best behaviour. The whole matter drove Hathaway positively mad. The sergeant knew that the inspector had not changed a whit on the inside, continuing to shoot Innocent lewd glances and to order the junior officers about as though they were slaves.

Still mentally smarting from the encounter with his hated former inspector, James walked into the break room and started preparing Knox's coffee, making sure to pour copious amounts of cream and sugar into the finished cup. Hathaway also found a bottle of Worchester sauce in the break room refrigerator and decided to add some of that as well.

"Isn't it a little late in the day for coffee, James?" asked a voice behind him.

The sergeant turned to see his colleague and close friend Sergeant Adrian Kershaw."The coffee's not for me."

Kershaw gave Hathaway a bemused look. "But didn't Inspector Lewis leave early today?"

"He did."

" Then, who…?" Adrian suddenly broke off, instantly comprehending. "Knox," he said finally, all-but-spitting the name as Hathaway nodded.

James knew that Kershaw completely understood the situation Hathaway was facing. When Adrian's own inspector had taken leave, the sergeant had been temporarily assigned to Knox for two nightmarish weeks. "But you work for Lewis now," Kershaw continued. "Knox hasn't the right to order you about anymore."

"Tell that to him. He barged into the room and demanded that I get him a cup of coffee."

"And you _obeyed_?" Kershaw asked, flabbergasted.

Hathaway shrugged. "If I stuck around, he'd have started a monologue about all the revolting things he wants to do to our chief super. God, if Innocent knew some of the things he's said in the past …"

"She _does_. I made a point of telling her. While the chief super shares our disgust, she can't really do anything about him unless he turns his sick fantasies into realities, or starts drinking again."

"Or if Innocent _thinks _he's started drinking again." Hathaway said forebodingly as an idea that was both tempting and unethical suddenly took hold of him.

Kershaw merely gave him a crooked grin in response. That was all the encouragement that Hathaway needed.

* * *

_DS James Hathaway felt sickened when he thought about what he and Adrian had done the following afternoon. While Kershaw had distracted Knox, Hathaway had placed a bottle of vodka in the inspector's desk. Hathaway and Kershaw had originally planned to "report" Knox later in the week, but Knox's own sergeant ended up doing their dirty work for them. The young officer had come across the bottle while rummaging through his superior's desk for a pencil and had gone straight to Innocent with what he'd found. Despite Knox's protestations that he had no idea how the alcohol ended up in his desk, the inspector had been sacked immediately. _

_Hathaway tried to content himself with the knowledge that Knox was an insufferable bastard who deserved his fate, but the sergeant knew that his lie was the sole reason for the inspector's dismissal. What was more, Hathaway was really no better than Knox. _

'_Let he among you who is without sin cast the first stone.' _

_That had always been Grandmother Hathaway's favourite Bible verse. She had always tried to instruct her grandson on the sinfulness of hypocrisy. James felt another twinge of guilt and regret as he thought about some of the skeletons in his own closet: his forbidden relationship with Fiona, his wrongful seduction of Jean, and his crucial part in Will's death._

_Hathaway finally forced his thoughts to the ninth commandment._

'_Thou shall not covet thy neighbour's wife.'_

_He thought again of Innocent and of his sin with her, a sin that would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life and career. The worst of it was that—though his one-night-stand with his boss had been the only time that Hathaway had **acted** upon his shameful lusts—it had not been the only time that he'd harboured such lusts. And Jean Innocent had not been the only married woman that he'd ever desired._


	9. Coveting a Neighbor's Wife

**Note: This chapter is set in the near future—approximately two years after the end of series 5 and approximately one year before the frame story.**

Coveting a Neighbour's Wife

Detective Sergeant James Hathaway fought back a yawn. They'd been waiting for what seemed like forever. When was the bloody ceremony going to start?

Next to him, Robbie seemed to be experiencing a more intense form of the same impatience. Pools of sweat were trickling down the inspector's face and landing on his new tuxedo. Lewis turned to his sergeant and best man.

"You don't suppose that she's changed her mind, do you?"

Hathaway took a moment to respond. "No sir, I don't. Any idiot can see that Laura's head-over-heels for you."

Robbie blushed and smiled tentatively. "You really think so?"

"I do.'

James didn't just think so—he knew it. Hobson had confessed her feelings for Robbie to Hathaway long before she'd started dating the inspector. After that, James had been forced to combat his own surprising jealousy.

James had always found Laura attractive, and he'd assumed that she'd felt the same way. After all, she'd flirted outrageously with him: ruffling his hair, batting her eyes at him, calling him "dishy." Yet the whole time, she'd been holding back feelings for his partner, and her flirtation had likely been a ruse all along, an attempt to make Robbie jealous.

The attempt had certainly paid off. Lewis and Hobson had dated for a few years before Robbie finally proposed, and those years had proved torturous for James. He couldn't remember ever feeling lonelier. It hadn't helped that Fiona was in London, that Scarlet was in prison and that Jean—boss and married woman—was still the ultimate taboo. Hathaway's feelings of desolation had intensified when they were juxtaposed with Robbie and Laura's perfect bliss. It simply didn't seem fair that they had gotten their happy ending while James continued to wait for his own.

Hathaway snapped out of his reverie when he heard the organ start to play. He saw the first bridesmaid beginning to walk down the aisle. James recognized the woman by sight, but he couldn't remember her name. She was one of Laura's old friends from medical school: pretty and friendly enough but nothing remarkable. Hathaway paid her no more attention as he had just noticed that the next bridesmaid had begun to walk toward him.

Everyone had been shocked when Laura Hobson had asked Jean Innocent to serve as one of her bridesmaids. Innocent and Hobson had never gotten along: partly because Jean had always been jealous of the pathologist's popularity with everyone at the station, and partly because Laura had always perceived the elegant chief superintendent as a rival for Robbie's affections. But engagement had mellowed out the pathologist. Secure in Robbie's love, Laura had benevolently extended her hand in friendship to Jean, and the chief superintendent had accepted the offer. In the months leading up to the wedding, the two had become practically inseparable, discovering that their shared loves of shopping and sarcasm compensated sufficiently for their frosty beginnings.

As James studied Innocent walking down the aisle now, the sergeant soon became acutely aware of how much smooth skin was exposed by the low neckline of the chief superintendent's emerald silk gown. He forced himself to look away so as not to tempt himself further.

James noticed now that the third bridesmaid had begun the long journey to the front of the church. It was another of Hobson's nondescript friends from medical school. He snuck another look at Innocent. She had reached the front of the church by this time and stood at the opposite side of the altar with her fellow bridesmaid. Jean caught James watching her and gave him a brief glare of disapproval. Then she faced forward again, her face turned—not to the approaching bridesmaid, but instead—to a tall, brawny man in one of the front pews.

James followed her gaze and soon recognized the man at whom Jean was staring. It looked as though that infamous good-for-nothing Mr Innocent had actually bothered to show up to one important event in his miserable little life. Hathaway felt a strange blend of anger and shame as he considered the man he'd cuckolded—once in body and countless times in mind.

James felt a sharp nudge at his side and briefly wondered if Lewis had noticed that his sergeant had been staring at their boss's husband. Hathaway soon shook off this thought; Robbie was far too consumed with his own anxiety and delight to pay attention to anyone else.

"Yes, sir?" James whispered to his inspector and friend.

"It's… it's just… she looks beautiful, doesn't she?" Robbie said, tearing up and beaming proudly.

Hathaway had initially assumed that Lewis was talking about Laura, but when he'd returned his attention back to the procession, he saw that the bride-to-be had not yet emerged from the back of the church. Hathaway examined the fourth bridesmaid closely and realized that it was Lewis's daughter, Lyn. Although she was wearing dark green like the other bridesmaids, Lyn's dress was looser than those of the other women. James suddenly remembered Laura saying that Lyn's gown had needed to be specially tailored in order to accommodate the young woman's rapidly expanding womb. Lyn was currently seven months pregnant with Robbie's second grandchild.

When Lyn reached the altar, Jean and one of the other two bridesmaids walked down from their positions and helped Lyn up to the altar. James suspected that this part of the ceremony had been specially planned to ensure that no harm would come to Lyn or her baby during the service. Once Lyn had been settled, James shot Innocent an approving smile from across the room. She met his gaze for a moment and subsequently stared down at her hands, suddenly very interested in the bouquet of flowers that she held.

Suddenly, the Bridal March sounded, and everyone seated rose to their feet as the bride slowly entered the chapel. As Laura approached them, James temporarily forgot all about Robbie and Lyn and Hobson's boring doctor friends—and even about Jean.

The style of Laura's gown was surprisingly conservative, with long sleeves, a full train (carried by Hobson's young niece) and a bodice covered in antique lace. In order to discourage comment that she was out of touch with current trends, Laura had complemented her dress with notably modern accessories. Teardrop-shaped diamonds dangled from Laura's earlobes and a circular diamond-accented sapphire pendant hung from her graceful neck. James recognized the necklace as belonging to Chief Superintendent Innocent and felt a surge of gratitude to his boss for providing Laura with both the "something borrowed and something blue" that the pathologist would need for luck at her wedding.

Hathaway had always known that Hobson would make a beautiful bride, but he was still awestruck at how breath-taking she was. It wasn't just the dress; Laura would have looked good in anything. What really made the pathologist stand out from the crowd was the way that she carried herself today. She practically floated down the aisle toward Robbie, her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink behind her sheer veil.

When Laura arrived at the front of the church, Robbie stepped forward and took her hand. The minister then started the ceremony, his high-pitched voice squeaking as he read. James scarcely heard him. He continued to observe Laura who was staring at Lewis with a look of near-worship on her lovely face. Hathaway suddenly felt another sharp surge of envy and struggled to quench it.

What was the matter with him—first Jean and now Laura? Why did he feel so drawn to women who were pledged to remain faithful to other men?

"If anyone knows a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

James debated speaking up—of interrupting the otherwise perfect wedding to say exactly what was in his mind and heart at that moment. By the time he'd worked up the nerve, the minister had moved on with the ceremony, and James had lost his resolve.

Robbie and Laura pledged to love each other forever and ever. Then, the minister pronounced them "man and wife" and instructed Robbie to kiss his bride. The inspector did so eagerly, taking Laura in his arms and kissing her hungrily in front of all their family and friends. Once again, Hathaway was struck with a strong, savage desire to be the other man. This instinct was coupled with a stronger sense of guilt than he'd felt the other times he'd wanted a different woman who belonged to another. He knew the reason. The inspector was not the man that Mr Innocent was—harsh, unfaithful, neglectful. Rather, Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis was an excellent man: kind, loyal, loving, protective, and compassionate. If anyone in the world was truly worthy of perfect happiness, Hathaway knew that that person was Robbie, who'd been friend, mentor, and father figure to James.

Robbie and Laura finally broke apart and stared up at each other adoringly. Then, they joined hands and walked down the aisle to the limousine that awaited them. James watched them go, his thoughts alternately divided between joy for his friend and sorrow that Laura was now as barred from him as Jean was.

* * *

_As he recalled this event, Hathaway reflected that his envy of Mr Innocent and of Lewis must not have been sexual jealousy alone. What Hathaway truly wanted was emotional security of his own—the same sort of emotional security that the two others possessed._

_To wake every morning with a beautiful, remarkable person in his arms._

_To have a shoulder to lean on—or cry on—when times got difficult._

_To have someone there to kiss away his doubts and his fears._

_To have someone love him unconditionally whether he deserved it—as Lewis deserved Laura's affections—or whether he did not—as Mr Innocent did not deserve Jean's._

_It was a beautiful thought—a beautiful dream. But it would never be his; Hathaway was sure of that._

_No person would ever love him—**could** ever love him._

_He was reckless, cowardly, hotheaded, conceited, narrow-minded, selfish._

_Pathetic. _

_A figure worthy of pity—or of scorn—but not of love._

_Hathaway finally ended this distressing train of thought and turned his attention to the tenth and final commandment._

_ 'Thou shall not covet thy neighbour's goods or anything else that belongs to thy neighbour.'_


	10. Coveting a Neighbor's Goods

**Note: This is set just before the frame story.**

Coveting a Neighbour's Goods

DS James Hathaway walked out of the break room, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He was about to re-enter the office he shared with Lewis when a voice from behind the door stopped him.

"I still don't see why she didn't pick Hathaway for the promotion," Robbie said. "He's clearly the most-qualified man for the position and has the best work ethic."

"I should think the answer's obvious."

There was a long silence. It seemed that the answer was not nearly as obvious as Laura had suspected. Finally, the pathologist spoke again. "Jean's trying to discourage the rumour that she favours James."

"But she _doesn'_t favour him." Lewis insisted.

"_I_ may know that, but it's still difficult to prove that she isn't partial to him. You've seen for yourself how close the two of them are."

"Yeah, I s'pose I have."

'No, you haven't,' James thought to himself as he walked away from the door. 'Neither of you has any bloody idea of just _how_ close Jean and I have been.'

It was that closeness—that very intimate closeness—that had cost Hathaway this offer of a promotion. Film and television tended to suggest that having slept with one's boss _encouraged _promotion offers, but that was the farthest thing from the truth in Hathaway's case. James strongly suspected that Jean—like him—still felt guilt for what the two of them had done years ago when they'd each been slightly drunk and extremely lonely. He knew that Innocent must feel that she'd corrupted herself that night. In her eyes, promoting Hathaway now would only further compromise her integrity. He understood why she acted as she did, but that didn't make him any less bitter towards her.

The irony was that he hadn't even wanted the promotion—at least, not initially. In fact, had the chief superintendent offered it to him in the first place, he'd likely have refused. He was perfectly happy to continue working with Lewis. The two of them had an effective partnership and a close friendship.

But now, simply because Innocent was denying it to him, he wanted the promotion. What was more; he felt that he _deserved_ it.

True, he and Lewis occasionally disregarded proper procedure in their investigations, but they were hardly the only pair guilty of that. Besides, their successes clearly overshadowed their failures.

If the chief super could merely ignore her memories of a certain stormy night, she'd see that James was clearly the best choice for the job. He was easily the most intelligent officer of his rank—not to mention one of the most experienced! He also worked harder than nearly all of the other sergeants and a good number of the inspectors.

But none of that mattered to Innocent. She was going to discount Hathaway's many moments of strength, because the two of them had shared a single moment of weakness.

And the worst of it was that she was correct in doing so; she'd taken the proper course of action, and he hated for it.

James knew that he had no right to expect anything after desecrating a marriage, prompting a suicide, and sabotaging a career. He knew that he really deserved punishment—maybe even eternal damnation. But in spite of it all, he still wanted that damned promotion!

* * *

_DS James Hathaway noticed the other man come out of the confessional and return to his pew. It was finally time for Hathaway to reveal his sins._

_The sergeant rose to his feet and walked over to the confessional. He entered, shutting the door firmly behind him. It would not do for anyone to overhear his confession._

_Hathaway knelt down, blessed himself, and took a deep breath before saying the fateful words._

"_Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…"_

**The End**

* * *

**Another story finished! Poor James, I really tortured him—didn't I? I guess I'll have to write some sort of fluff piece to make up for it. Thanks to anyone who has read/favorited/reviewed**


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